


Safe and Sound

by parttimehuman



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Feels, Fluff, M/M, Shrunk Sweater, boys being dumb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-19
Updated: 2018-10-19
Packaged: 2019-08-05 07:13:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16363304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/parttimehuman/pseuds/parttimehuman
Summary: Isaac doesn't know how to tell Scott that he accidentally shrunk his sweater without telling him how he wore it for an entire week nonstop after Scott gave it to him at a party, which would obviously lead to the topic of Isaac's huge crush on him coming up.





	Safe and Sound

**Author's Note:**

  * For [never_love_a_wild_thing](https://archiveofourown.org/users/never_love_a_wild_thing/gifts).



> Sorry for the delay. Still, happy birthday lovely Emma! I hope you enjoy. x

“No no no no no no no no!” Isaac whined desperately as he pulled a little grey clothing article out of the dryer. He could tell right away that something was wrong with it, and it also didn’t feel as soft in his hands as it had before, but it took until he’d spread it out before him that he could measure the full extent of the catastrophe that had just happened. 

 

Isaac was holding up a sweater with two crossed lacrosse sticks on its front, reading ‘Beacon Hills Cyclones’. A sweater that looked like it could fit a toddler, except that a toddler wasn’t who it belonged to. The person who it belonged to was Scott McCall, captain of the lacrosse team, only true alpha known in California, his own alpha too, and apart from that, Isaac’s eternal and utterly hopeless crush. 

 

His first instinct told Isaac to hide it. Or even get rid of it, then just pretend like he’d never had it in the first place, and pray for Scott not to remind him of it. It was the natural thing to do for someone who’d basically grown up inside a freezer, to hide and lie and mask the ugly truth about himself. He was so used to it that most times, a lie was spoken faster than Isaac’s brain could catch up and tell him it wasn’t even necessary. The only problem was, humans were the only species that his prefered strategy ever fully worked on, and Scott had a few special skills that were so far from human that it was scary sometimes. 

 

Lying wasn’t an option. The only choice he had was between the truth and hoping that the sweater would never been talked about ever again. Isaac sighed and folded the little piece, since he could barely stand looking at it. He should have been used to failing at perfectly normal human tasks such as doing laundry by now, but the visual evidence of his incapacity still got to him. He stuffed the shrunk sweater into the bottom drawer of his dresser, burying it beneath a whole lot of scarves and beanies. Yet another dead body that weighed his conscience down, but what was one more? He’d be fine as long as Scott wouldn’t ask any questions. 

 

***

 

Being a werewolf had many perks, the biggest one them to Isaac personally being that helplessness wasn’t really a thing anymore. Ever since he’d been gifted with the bite, he’d only been growing stronger, more in control of things. He could see in the dark, could always hear and smell what was going on around him, and when what was going on around him was bad, he had his fangs and claws and a pack right by his side. Not that life in Beacon Hills wasn’t still dangerous for him, but it was a different kind of danger. It was war, but at least he was right there on the battlefield, fighting because he chose to. 

 

With all the advanced abilities came a few tiny difficulties as well. Being a werewolf meant experiencing life more intensely, and not only his own life, but that of the people surrounding him. Being in the middle of a party, for example, celebrating their lacrosse win, music blaring from the speakers loudly, people shouting in each other’s ears to make themselves audible over the noise, flashing lights everywhere, a million different scents wafting through the air - something like that could get quite overwhelming pretty damn fast. 

 

Luckily, Isaac knew exactly how to calm himself down, how to focus his wolf on something that would keep it grounded. Scott was sitting just across from him, holding a drink in his hand, happily chatting with a bunch of other guys, reviewing the highlights of their game one more time. The scene was so close to humanity that it almost made Isaac laugh out loud. The faint smell of the wolfsbane that Scott had mixed into his drink was the only hint of anything non-human about him. 

 

Sometimes, Isaac wondered what it would have been like to meet Scott as a human. Stiles had told enough stories for him to know all about pre-alpha Scott, even pre-werewolf Scott, but the stories were so hard to imagine sometimes. Scott as just a skinny, socially awkward teenager, the asthma not really allowing him to be any good at lacrosse. He focused on the biceps straining Scott’s sweater and came to the conclusion that the thought was completely ridiculous. 

 

Meanwhile, watching Scott, straining his ears for the words his alpha was speaking had helped Isaac to calm his wolf down. It was at peace in that moment, safely tucked away under his human surface. He took another sip from his own drink and grimaced. He hadn’t quite figured out the ideal mixing proportion for wolfsbane and beer yet, but the night was still young, and the party was only just getting started. 

 

The next attempt either went much better, or the first attempt had been so terrible that he didn’t mind it anymore. Either way, Isaac was ready to let go a little, to give into the carelessness that his friends and classmates seemed to have figured out long before him. He danced with Erica Reyes, and her hair smelled so great that, if Scott hadn’t still been the only person occupying his lonely mind, he might have tried something with her. 

 

The third drink tasted fantastic, and Isaac was kind of sad when he spilled half of it, but the laughter that his clumsiness earned from the guys gathering around him didn’t sound bitter, didn’t sound insulting to his ears, it was just pure and it was right there to laugh along, which he did. He reached out and patted Jackson Whittemore’s cheek, and an arm was slung around his waist, and he didn’t flinch away from the touch, didn’t feel any urge to escape it at all. 

 

Isaac’s brain-to-mouth-filter was shut off with the fourth drink at the very last. It wasn’t a bad thing. He felt great. He felt like he was on top of the damn world and nothing could ever bring him down. The bonfire was a bit blurry in the distance, and he didn’t get the lyrics to the song that was playing one hundred percent right, but he felt like singing nonetheless, and enough people joined in. Everyone looked pretty, every sip of every drink he was offered tasted amazing, every next song was exactly the one he’d been waiting for. Staring at Scott and watching him dance didn’t feel like a completely crazy thing to do anymore. 

 

After drink number five, Isaac needed to step outside for just a minute, to get a few feet away from the crowd. It wasn’t bad or anything, he didn’t feel sick at all. The euphoria was turning into something warm and heavy inside him, a sudden feeling of clarity came over him, and he just wanted to look at the stars for a bit. He just wanted to savor the feeling of freedom by himself for a moment. Wanted to laugh his demons in the face, because they couldn’t touch him like that. 

 

“Hey, what are you doing out here?” For a second, the voice was just familiar, not because it belonged to a certain person, but because it did this thing to him on the inside, this thing that he wanted to feel over and over again forever although it was almost killing him. Of course, it belonged to Scott. The voice, but also the thing. 

 

“Nothing much,” Isaac replied. He was aware of the slur in his own words, but not in a way that made him feel ashamed of it. “Just enjoying the view,” he added, mumbling, but by the smile on Scott’s face, he could tell that the alpha had understood him perfectly, not that it should have surprised him. 

 

“Aren’t you cold?” Scott asked, two fingers suddenly brushing against Isaac’s bare arm. He was only wearing a thin t-shirt, since he’d kind of lost his cardigan somewhere along his dancing marathon with Erica, but the cold hadn’t gotten to him yet. 

 

He shook his head. “No.” 

 

“Are you sure? Because I can see goosebumps there,” Scott pointed out, trailing his fingers down Isaac’s arm again. He wasn’t wrong, technically, it was just that the goosebumps were most likely not at all related to the cold. 

 

“I’m fine,” Isaac said, “I’m great, actually. I don’t think I’ve felt this great since forever.” 

 

Scott let out a laugh. “You said the exact same thing at the last party we went to.” 

 

“Yeah,” Isaac nodded, “and that was forever ago.” 

 

“It was last weekend, you dork,” Scott smiled, nudging his shoulder. 

 

“Time isn’t real,” Isaac whispered, but the truth was, nothing was real with Scott’s body so close to his own. Nothing outside of a tiny little bubble containing to beating hearts existed anymore. 

 

“Here, take my sweater,” Scott offered, pulling it over his head. Isaac would have politely declined to offer, hadn’t he been too busy trying not to drool when Scott’s shirt slipped up a bit, exposing a toned little belly and a dark happy trail that screamed ‘lick me’ at him. 

 

“Uh, I don't… I’m not really cold, you know. And besides, it’s your sweater. Now you don’t have one anymore,” Isaac stammered dumbly. 

 

“Oh, don’t worry about me,” Scott said with a warm smile, “my wolf is keeping me warm.” 

 

“What about  _ my _ wolf?” Isaac asked. 

 

Scott laughed again. “I’m not sure, Isaac,” he said, “I’d say your wolf is busy fighting the wolfsbane in your system.” 

 

Isaac made a pouty face. He didn’t like it when Scott scolded him. Not because he couldn’t deal with criticism, but it always made him feel like Scott could see him as more of a kid, his protégé. He didn’t want to be that to Scott. He wanted to be, well, a man. Or at least a boy. An option. 

 

“Hey,” Scott said softly, cupping Isaac’s cheek with his hand, “there’s nothing wrong with that. We’ve all been there. I don’t judge. I’d never. And you’ve still got me to take care of you.” 

 

“You don’t need to take care of me though,” Isaac replied, feeling a little stubborn, a little frustrated with the softness in Scott’s eyes. He’d hoped for something else, maybe. 

 

“I will though,” Scott whispered in response, “always.” 

 

Isaac didn’t know how to respond to that. His intoxicated brain was a little overwhelmed, to be honest. He tended to get thing wrong when he was in that state, and he tended to react with too much open honesty. Usually, he didn't care. He wasn’t the type of person to wake up in the morning hungover and full of regrets. So what if he’d gone a little wild at night? He was a teenager, after all. Things looked different when it came to Scott, though. 

 

Whatever the chances were that Scott was giving Isaac his sweater out of anything else than the goodness of his heart, Isaac couldn’t risk ruining it, so he willed himself quiet and took the sweater with a thanking nod, pulling it down over his head. A shiver went down his spine when Scott reached out to pull the hood down from his head and combed through his hair with cautious fingers. 

 

***

 

When Isaac had finally made it home that night after the party, anything else besides collapsing onto his bed would have been too much for him. He slept on top of the sheets, his muddy shoes leaving stains behind. Although he felt a little drained the next morning, his werewolf system had been cleared of all traces of wolfsbane by the few hours of sleep. He was clear in his head, or he would have been, hadn’t the scent of Scott clinging to him in form of the cozy sweater he was still wearing made his brain a little dizzy. 

 

He should have given the sweater back that day. Or the following Monday at school. The thing was, he did neither. Instead, Isaac told himself that it would be the polite thing to do if he washed it first. It was his fault that the sweater smelled like sweat and alcohol and smoke, so it was his job to get it clean before returning it. Except as soon as he’d decided that, Isaac figured that there was no rush to it, and that he could wear it one more day before. 

 

One more day turned into two more days. Two more days turned into three turned into four turned into an entire week. Scott wouldn’t expect him to do laundry on a school day, Isaac kept reassuring himself. He wouldn’t blame him for taking a bit longer. Of course, Scott didn’t. He didn’t ask for his sweater, didn’t seem to want it back very urgently. He didn’t treat Isaac any differently, didn’t smell like he was waiting, or disappointed, or bearing any hard feelings whatsoever towards him. 

 

Although Scott didn’t seem to mind, Isaac knew he couldn’t just keep the sweater. He couldn’t continue that same thing forever, couldn’t keep coming home after school and throwing it on, burying his nose in it all the time, sleeping in it. He was being ridiculous, and whenever Scott was actually around him, he was still too chicken to do anything about his crush, so what was all the obsession worth, really? 

 

Isaac couldn’t help himself, though. It smelled too good. It was as simple as that. The sweater smelled so much like Scott that whenever he lay down and closed his eyes, hugging himself with his own arms slung around his body, taking deep breaths, it was almost as if Scott was there with him. It was one of those cases where his supernatural nose was a blessing and a curse at the same time, getting him addicted to a hopeless fantasy that he just couldn’t stop dreaming about. Sleep came easier to him during that week than it had ever before. 

 

The days of bittersweet torture were counted. Everyday, the sweater smelled a little less like Scott and a little more like Isaac. After the third or fourth day, it didn’t even smell like Isaac in a good way anymore. To be completely honest, the closer the weekend got, the more gross it became to still be sleeping with it pressed against his chest. Eventually, no rose-tinted glasses managed to conceal the fact that it was time to wash the sweater anymore. He’d had his weird stalker kind of fun with it, but Isaac wasn’t an actual creep, and of course he’d always intended to give the sweater back to Scott, so he put it in the washing machine. 

 

Both sadness and a gentle sort of contentment were with him as he watched the grey fabric spinning inside the laundry drum until white foam was all that was visible. He’d added some fancy conditioner to make the sweater smell extra nice, which it did when it came out. Everything would have gone great, if only at exactly that point, he’d decided to put it on the drying rack for a few hours. 

 

Unfortunately, Isaac knew he was going to see Scott that same evening, since the whole pack was supposed to meet up at their alpha’s house to hang out together, which he thought was the ideal opportunity to give him his sweater back just casually. To have it ready in time for that, Isaac put it in the dryer, which then turned out to be a fatal mistake. 

 

***

 

“Tell me,” Scott told him after he’d dragged them away from the others and into the kitchen. 

 

“Tell you what?” Isaac asked. Just because they were werewolves and Scott was the strongest and most skilled of them all who could easily detect all their chemosignals, practically reading their minds, didn’t mean he couldn’t still try to pretend like there was nothing wrong at all. 

 

“Something’s making you nervous,” Scott said simply, looking at him with those big brown human eyes. They didn’t have to glow red to shake him to the core. 

 

“To be fair,” Isaac replied, the fake laugh he let out not really helping his case, “something’s almost always making me nervous.” 

 

“Yeah, but that’s not what I’m talking about. Something’s up with you.” 

 

“Nothing’s up with me.” 

 

“Isaac,” Scott whispered, “don’t lie to me. Why would you ever lie to me?” 

 

“I’m not lying to you,” Isaac said, frustrated. “Can’t there be things I simply don’t tell you? Have you ever considered there being things you don’t even want to know?” 

 

“Not when it comes to you, no. I do want to know if it’s bothering you.” 

 

Isaac’s first instinct was to give in. He couldn’t help it. Scott was his alpha, and he’d never wanted anything but the best for any of the members of his pack. Isaac knew he wouldn’t be judged. He would be rejected in the most gentle of ways, but that didn’t make the thought bearable. Maybe it made it even worse, knowing the pain that would be written all over Scott’s face. And all of it just because he had to fall for his alpha out of all people. His alpha who they all knew still wasn’t over Allison’s death. 

 

He couldn’t lie. There would be no point in it, and more importantly, the attempt would only disappoint Scott. So Isaac started with just a fragment of the truth. 

 

“I shrunk your sweater,” he admitted. 

 

Scott furrowed his eyebrow as he looked at him curiously. “Really? That’s it? You shrunk my sweater? So what, I have plenty of others. To be honest, I haven’t missed it so far. It’s fine.” 

 

“Good,” Isaac sighed, “although I’m really sorry. I just wanted to return it all clean, but I’m obviously pretty bad at doing laundry.” 

 

“Don’t worry about it,” Scott smiled, and then there was another one of those shoulder nudges, those things that Isaac never knew how to react to. Lean into the touch? Move away? Stay right where he was and hope for it to happen again? 

 

Isaac knew that their conversation had gone way too easily as they were back in the living room and in front of the tv with the rest of the pack, eating tons of pizza and laughing about terrible jokes. He was half expecting some sort of aftershock during the whole evening. It didn’t help that his gaze swayed back to Scott’s face every time he felt the alpha wasn’t watching, but there was nothing he could do about it. He was very obviously and irrevocably in love, and the fact that he didn’t stand a chance didn’t count, not to his rapidly beating heart anyway. 

 

“Hey, Isaac,” Scott said when everyone was getting ready to leave just after midnight. “Would you mind staying for a minute to help me with something?” 

 

“Sure,” he agreed, although all he wanted to do was flee. He contemplated jumping out of the window and simply running very seriously for a moment, but then he turned back inside with a deep exhale. He was doomed. It would all come out. Maybe it already had. Maybe it was just that simple to look right through him. 

 

“Can we try that thing where we talk to each other again?” Scott asked when it was just the two of them left, sitting down on the sofa next to Isaac. “And this time, it would be great if you could tell me truth. All of it, that is.” 

 

Isaac swallowed. He knew it. All along, he’d known that it would come down to a moment like that one day, but he wasn’t ready. Nothing would be the same between them anymore. 

 

“Alright,” he said weakly, letting out a deep breath, “here it goes. The whole truth. I shrunk your sweater because I washed it, which I had to, because I’ve been wearing it nonstop since the moment you gave it to me. Because it smelled so much like you. And then it didn’t anymore, but there was still a little bit of you in it, so it was still the best thing ever. Because  _ you’re  _ the best thing ever. Because I’m in love with you, Scott.” 

 

“Why?” Scott whispered. 

 

“What?” 

 

“Why on earth would you think that’s a thing I don’t want to know?” 

 

Seriously? Did Isaac really have to spell it out for him? 

 

“Because now you’ll have to tell me that you care very deeply about me as your friend and your beta, but you just don’t feel the same way I do, and then I have to pretend like it’s fine, like it isn’t breaking my heart,” Isaac explained. “And then we’ll continue life as always, but it’ll be awkward as fuck. You’ll ask me if I’m alright, and I’ll say yes, but you’ll know that I’m lying, of course. And then you’ll always feel weird around me, and I’ll always be reminded of your rejection, and nothing is ever going to be like it was between us.” 

 

“You know what?” Scott said after a moment of silence. “You’re right. Nothing is ever going to be like it was. And I don’t want it to.” 

 

“I get it, I-... hold on, you what?” 

 

“I would never tell you that I care very deeply about you as my friend and my beta,” Scott explained, “mostly because that sounds an awful lot like a dumb, empty phrase. But apart from that, what you’re obviously thinking isn’t even remotely the truth about how I feel about you.” 

 

Isaac couldn’t believe it was happening. “It’s not?” He asked dumbly. 

 

Scott offered him a faint smile and took his hand. For a moment, Isaac thought that he was finally about to know what it felt like to hold Scott’s hand, but then the alpha wrapped his fingers around Isaac’s wrists and led his hand to rest over Scott’s beating heart. 

 

“Not at all,” he said. His heart was racing almost as rapidly as Isaac’s own, but steadily. “I would never reject you, and I will never break your heart. I’ll try my best to keep it safe and sound, I promise. Because I’m in love with you, too.” 

 

Isaac gasped. Scott’s little talk had been leading up to exactly that revelation, but hearing it was still a little too much to process somehow. His cheeks turned red. “Oh my god,” he whispered. Once, twice, a couple of more times, because he couldn't believe his luck. Because his luck hadn’t even been a thing up until that point. 

 

Scott was grinning, practically beaming at him. “Are you alright?” He asked, placing his own hand over Isaac’s on his chest. 

 

“Give me a minute,” Isaac muttered, leaning forward and burying his face in Scott’s sweater once more, only that he was wearing it that time. His stupid idiot grin had to be hidden from the world, he couldn’t deal. Scott laughed and brought a hand to the back of his neck, holding him close. “You’re adorable, but when you’re done hiding, I’d very much like to kiss you.” 

 

Isaac wasn’t done hiding. He wasn’t ready, wasn’t prepared. All of his dreams had been about that exact thing lately, and still, the reality was completely overwhelming, but he couldn’t not raise his head and look up to Scott. He couldn’t not close his eyes when Scott leaned down and cupped his cheek, and he couldn’t not kiss him back when Scott’s lips were finally on his own, warm and soft and exciting. 

 

“You don’t know how long I’ve been wanting to do this,” Scott whispered when he pulled away. 

 

“As long as I have?” Isaac asked back before pressing their mouths back together. He honestly doesn't think so. If he’d believed Scott’s scent had been intoxicating before, then it was still nothing compared to the taste of him. Nothing would ever come close to that. 


End file.
